Joker's Journal
by Chanandaler Bong
Summary: It's been said that the late Heath Ledger wrote a journal during the time he was the Joker. While I would love to read it, this is my version of what the Joker's own journal/diary would look like as he encountered each event during “The Dark Knight”
1. Entry 1

Disclaimer: The idea of the Joker's diary is not an original of my own—it is merely an inspiration of another story I have read here on fanfiction that is in my favorite's called "Jack's Diary" which is about Jack Sparrow and his thoughts throughout the movie of POTC: curse of the black pearl. I fully give my appreciation and thanks to fancyfantasyfairy for coming up with such an amazing and hilarious story that made me crack up each time I read it. I strongly suggest you all read it because it is fantastic. So, while I do not own the idea of a diary for the Joker, as I have just explained above, I also do not own Batman or anything else created in either the DC comic world or in the Batman Begins/Dark Knight world. I do however, own the story that I create. I hope this is enjoyable for you all to read!

Entry 1: The Robbery

I am always telling myself it's not about the money. It isn't. It really isn't. Or is it? Nope. Definitely not about the money. Glad to have killed all of those buffoons I hired. Still can't believe they made me wait on the sidewalk today for nearly 20 minutes. I really should have just taken care of them right then and there in the car—but that would have been too easy.

It made me giggle a bit to hear them talk about me though—not knowing why I call myself "the Joker". Why do they call him the Joker? He wears face paint. War paint? What the hell was that all about? I should have just popped them both and been done with that superfluous discussion. It certainly would have given them a pretty good reason—HAHA Joke's on YOU! But that would have spoiled all the fun. Can't spoil all the fun right away. Then it's no fun at all. Not as fun as making them guess why I do the things that I do. They'll never be able to nail it on the head—no one ever will.

It was so gratifying—beautiful even, to see the bank in shambles. A brilliant way to send my message to Gotham. I'd have to say it was a rather glorifying message to send—one that they will never truly begin to understand. What must that be like—not being able to understand me. Everything makes sense to me—life in this world needs to be conducted without rules—a very simple and blatant message.

It was such a conundrum for that bank guy—he really didn't know what I believed in—he didn't even know it was me. I told him that I believe whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you stranger. I think that got to him. It's the truth. If only he knew what I'd gone through he'd understand—anyone would understand if they knew. I think I like it better this way—not having to explain myself to people. I just do…things. I like that. I like it a lot.

I really need to hire better henchmen, though. They think they're so crafty, but they make it too easy for me. I need a challenge—I need the Bat. Things are just…so boring. But things are not so boring with the Bat. I just can't wait for my next meeting with ole Batsy. It's been too long and the anticipation is nearly eating me alive. It's all I can think of. I can't focus my thoughts on anything else, which is so strange for me. I can always think of something…some way to amuse myself, but Gotham is just so…boring. I've really got to liven things up a bit.

Maybe I should doodle on the newspaper. I like it when I doodle on the newspaper.

Maybe I'll hire better henchmen. Or better yet…I really need the Bat.

Maybe I'll crash in on the Maroni crime family—they've always got interesting things going on. I also like that guy's accent. Too authentic!

I wish I had an accent. Maybe I do and I just don't realize it.

_Sometimes I am just too ordinary—too boring. There's nothing more exciting than loading up on hand grenades and finding a reason to use them. Maybe I should have done that today in the bank. Or in the car, even. I should have loaded the car with grenades and blown it up once we arrived at the bank. That would have been fun. But still not as fun as Batsy. _


	2. Entry 2

Disclaimer: Thank you all of you who have read and/or reviewed! Glad you like it so far!!!

Entry 2: A proposition

You know, I've found that all it takes to really put people off is to laugh. Laughing throws everything off with people—they seem not to expect it. I like it. I like that people don't laugh. I mean, I ultimately have the last joke, which is nice—and appropriate.

Today I busted in on Harvey Dent's list of Gotham's most wanted. All I could do was laugh. I told them that the real problem is Batman—of course. Sometimes I really wonder about the mental capacity of the criminals in this town. Of course it's the Batman—what else would it possibly be? Their balls really did drop off. I mean, when I asked them, no one denied that they were not eunuchs. Looks like I hit the nail on the head with that one.

I told them they have to kill the Bat—my Batsy. They didn't believe me, but then coaxed me, asking why I haven't done it yet. I told them if you're good at something, never do it for free. While that statement is the truth, it was one of my many white lies. They don't know that I couldn't kill Batsy! He's just too much fun, but I can never tell them that—not while I need to get Gotham under my thumb. It was nice to threaten to blow up the meeting with my grenades—it'll never get old, I swear! Every time I have a grenade, I just get so excited that have to blow something or someone up! Good thing I didn't let that excitement take control of me today—could have ended badly.

I have to admit, I am horribly infatuated with the Italian's accent. Every time he speaks I find myself getting lost in his words—I'm not quite sure if it's because I am intrigued or just horribly confused. Maybe it's a combination of both. Let's agree to that, shall we?

Gamble put out a hit for me—500 thousand for me dead, a million for me alive. Wouldn't I be worth more if I were dead? Alive I am so much more of a threat! I don't think Gamble is the brightest bulb in the box, but oh well. I'm sure I'll fix that little mistake when I feel like it. I swear, these mobsters just aren't enough fun—It seems I'm always at least five steps ahead of them no matter how hard I try to let them catch up. I think that's why I fancy the Bat so much—he keeps me entertained—consistently meets me at my level for the game. I like that.


	3. Entry 3

Disclaimer: Sorry for the lag in updates! I am so stoked you all love the Joker journal! I think getting to read Heath's would be incredibly enlightening and dark/disturbing at the same time!

Entry Three:

Well, I finally got _that_ over with. Cut out Gambol and his little regime of puppets. What I did was, I paid off some downtown gangsters to make it like they killed me. The sad thing about this city is that anyone will do anything for a buck. They're all drug addicts. Every. Last. One. Except me, of course. I don't have any need for drugs. Or money. Never did. Never will. It's pathetic, really, what these people go through for just one hit from the needle or pipe. I suppose that's what makes me better than all of them…more capable of rising to the top and taking over Gotham.

Besides that, the two clowns I paid off downtown hid me in a trash bag and brought me in to see Gambol. Pitiful Gambol thought they had actually killed me! Shouldn't he know by now that I am not one to die??????????! He offered them the $500,000 for bringing me in dead. He still didn't get that I would be worth more than that…dead. Oh well. You can't win them all, now can you?? Hahahaahaha, he really didn't win this one!

This was the good part. I sprung up from the bag with my blade in hand and asked him "how about alive?" That really got him. You should have seen that sorry bastard's face! Looked like he dropped a deuce in his pants right there!!!! I held up the blade to his mouth and asked him if he wanted to know how I got my beloved scars. Of course I fabricated the story—mixed some personal experience with some fact. They love it when the details involve a loved one hurting another loved one. It really makes their stomach churn. It makes _mine_ flutter with amusement. You and I both know that daddy would have given me the scars if he ever had the balls to do so—but that's beside the point. I _do_ have the balls to give someone the scars. Aaaaaand…I did!!!!! Gambol looked all serious when I finished my sad tale, and so I asked him "why so serious?" and then I cut him!

It was real. So so so so real. And just what I needed. The adrenaline rush was…exhilarating.

So, then I coaxed everyone else into joining our team—but of course I had to thrown in the curve ball that there is only 1 spot available. Of course there isn't just 1 spot available—I just loved having them kill each other off!

It was a good day.


End file.
